


I see changes (in the most unexpected places)

by juxtapose



Series: Must've Done Something Right (We should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team) [4]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Bruce gives advice, M/M, Pepper is a BAMF, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 14:35:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juxtapose/pseuds/juxtapose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Pepper Potts is no fool, Bruce Banner gives some advice however uncomfortable he might be about it, and things are changing not just for Tony and Steve, but for the people around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I see changes (in the most unexpected places)

**Author's Note:**

> So, again, I'm so iffy about this. I want to make sure I've got everyone's characterizations down-pat, so constructive criticism is welcome. To be honest I quite liked writing for Pepper--she and Tony have such a great relationship in the Marvel films (this is due, I'm sure, to Gwyneth Paltrow and RDJ having a whole lotta chemistry and a lot of improv talent, but I digress). This is the longest of all the parts I've written, and if all goes well, there'll only be one more part to post after this one. Enjoy! Title of this part is from the song "Unexpected Places" by The Academy Is.  
> Thanks as always to Danielle (EverdeenFrayPotter) for looking this over and encouraging me to have the guts to post it.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing!

This is how it is, now:

They have whispered conversations in darkened hallways, with words that dance around each other in a routine they’ve memorized.

“We have to work together on this, Tony. Fury’s counting on us. The world’s counting on us. Whatever . . . happened between us, happened.”

“I’m aware that it happened, otherwise we wouldn’t be doing this, would we? I told you. Just forget about all of it. It’s easy.”

But it isn’t, for either of them, though they’re trying their damnedest anyway. So in these darkened hallways, in passing, casually so their friends think nothing of it, they interact this way. In the few moments they allow each other, their conversations are brief: from _Do anything reckless today and I’ll personally kick your ass_ , to the more elaborate, _Could you maybe ease off on the puppy eyes whenever you’re looking at me? Jesus, I think Thor wanted to take you home and feed you kibble at the meeting today._

And then one day, Steve’s in the kitchen and everyone’s clapping Tony on the back and yelling various congratulatory sentiments, and Barton says, “Cap, did you hear? Tony’s getting hitched!”

And Steve shakes his hand with a “Congrats, Stark,” that really does mean _congratulations_ , and Tony says, “Thanks,” which really is a thank-you, but the way their fingers linger at each other’s touch means a whole new set of words neither wants to vocalize.

It’s almost like a joke between them, now. Working together to stay apart.

Almost.

* * * 

_“From ABX News, here’s the latest on the horrifying series of events cropping up in Manhattan, New York over the last several days--and their sudden turn-around. It seems that the enigmatic team known as the Avengers are here to help once again, but, witnesses say, something’s very different.”_

_“I told my mommy that when I grow up, I wanna be an Avenger. They’re all so cool! From the window in my room I could see them all, even the big green Hulk guy. And then Captain America was like,_ BAM! _and Iron Man was like,_ WOOSH _and they worked together and created this biiiiiig explosion that sent all the bad robot people away!”_

_“I wanna thank all those superheroes for helping us. But the guy wearing the flag and the guy in the red suit are the leaders, I guess. I was working my shift at the restaurant and I saw ‘em stop a giant flying robot thing from hitting the place . . . They worked, like, in-sync. It was almost creepy."_

_“. . . Y’know, I said to my wife, I said, ‘Shirley, there’s somethin’ about that Captain America and that Iron Man.’ They been takin’ the lead like nobody’s business, and I’m damn sure we’d all be toast if it weren’t for them.”_

Nick Fury drums his fingers against the table as he watches the blaring screen bearing the happy, relieved, grateful faces of the American people. He’d just returned from making the final negotiations in terms of the capture of the leaders of AIM. The case, as they say, is closed. For now.

Agent Maria Hill’s voice pipes up behind him, “Sir, it’s interesting. Not only are Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark working well with the team again, but they’re working even better with each other.”

Fury nods, eye still on the television before him. “That they are.”

“Do you think they’ve finally resolved their differences, sir?”

At this remark, Fury whirls around in his chair and raises an eyebrow. “Hell, no,” he retorts, “They’ve just gotten damn good at hiding them.”

* * *

They go to Tony’s favorite Chinese place for dinner.

Pepper smiles a little as Tony politely pulls out her chair for her, and she smooths her skirt as she sits, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Tony settles into his seat across from her, an inquisitive eyebrow already raised high.

“You need to tell me something important,” he declares, absently straightening his tie before resting his elbows on the table, chin in steepled hands.

Pepper’s eyes scan the menu before her. “What makes you say that?”

“Because, (a), you compulsively tuck your hair behind your ears when you’re nervous, and (b), we only go out for dumplings when we’re about to have an Important Conversation. Ling Ling’s has become the _Important Conversation Restaurant_ , Pep--”

“--They just have _really_ good dumplings here, Tony--”

“--Like that time we had that _discussion_ about how you didn’t like my redecorating of your office, that was here--”

“--Their fried rice is actually heaven-made--”

“--So seriously, spill the beans so the fortune cookies can soften the blow after. Fortune cookies make everything better.” Tony crosses his arms expectantly, and Pepper figures there’s no point in arguing anymore.

She sighs, leaning back in her chair. A waiter comes to take their order, and Pepper fidgets uncomfortably and Tony stares quizzically until they‘re alone again. “Okay, so, yeah. We do need to talk. We haven’t really done that lately. Talk. And I wanted to ask you something.”

Tony‘s expression is faux nonchalance, and Pepper can tell, and Tony _knows_ she can tell which makes it all the worse. He manages to shrug and say, “Shoot.”

Pepper looks down at the tablecloth for a moment, taking in a slow breath before holding up her left hand, engagement ring glimmering against the light shooting off the chandelier above them. “Tony, why did you ask me to marry you?”

“Because I want to inherit all your land, livestock and prospects,” Tony deadpans, but his expression sobers at Pepper’s no-nonsense look. “Because I _want_ to marry you,” he amends, “And I thought maybe there’d be some off chance that you’d want to marry me, too.”

And suddenly Pepper’s eyes widen a little and gloss over, and the tears behind her eyes gush forth in the form of her shaky words: “No, Tony.”

He blinks. “No to which part, exactly?”

“All of it. Listen, I . . .” Another sigh. “I’ve had a lot of time to think. Traveling back and forth between here and Malibu and helping manage your company--”

“If this is about the CEO thing, it’s technically on record that you _quit_ ; Rhodey as witness--”

Pepper closes her eyes wearily. “Tony, please. Just let me talk, okay?”

“Yeah." Tony nods, sniffing. “Okay.”

“Anyway. I’ve had a lot of time to think. And I realized a lot about . . . about us. About what brought us together. You needed me, Tony. And I needed you to need me. The fact that you relied on me so much for every little thing just drew me closer to you.

“When we first started out, the times we were separated were always ridiculously hectic. Because I was constantly worrying about you, and you were constantly giving me _reasons_ to worry about you. But lately, when we’ve been off on our own . . . we’ve been _better_. And I’ve realized . . . the person I _can_ be, Tony. The person that isn’t shaping herself to be what you need. And you? Tony, you’re . . . you’re amazing.”

Tony is watching her with analytical intensity, but remains silent, which they both recognize at that precise moment as quite a rarity. “While I’ve been off doing my own thing, I’ve been watching you do yours. Helping your allies--your _friends_ fight the good fight. I’m so proud of you, Tony, because I realize you don’t need to depend on me anymore. And I think that’s a really, really good thing. Don’t you?”

“I . . .” Tony furrows his eyebrows. “But you said ‘yes.’”

“I did. And that was my mistake. Because you knew all along, Tony. You knew that there was a point in time where we were better together, but that time is over. And you were afraid of hurting me, so you risked your happiness to hold onto me. Which just proves my point. The Tony Stark I used to know wouldn’t have done that.”

“Pepper--” Tony cuts himself off as their dinner arrives, though neither he nor Pepper make a move to break the line of still, thick tension between them.

Finally she says, “Just answer me honestly, Tony. Do you think we should get married?”

It’s the question that has run circles round them dozens of times, one they both have always known the answer to. Tony says softly, “No.”

“Okay. Good. Something we agree on.” Pepper smiles a little, the lines of worry that had been etched in her face all night fading a little.

He nods. “Yeah. I . . . you’re right. In an almost scarily accurate kinda way. I’ve had a lot of time to think, too. And I didn’t want to let you know how unsure I was about moving forward with . . . _us_ even though I knew we’d both changed. So. Yeah. We . . . we should call this off, huh? Before we make a big mess of each other." Saying the words is liberating somehow, lifting the awkward veil between them and replacing it with one of amiable, familiar warmth. “You're my best friend, Pep."

“I know. And I always will be."

“Yeah?"

Pepper grins. “Well, you’ll want me to stick around. I have your social security number memorized."

“Virginia Potts, you absolute _fiend_. I'll trade you some of my lo mein for a piece of General Tso's."

“Thanks for the warning. You usually just dig into my plate without asking."

“Oh, would you rather I go back to doing that?"

“I'm gonna go with, ‘Ew, no thanks.'"

And just like that, they are Tony-and-Pepper again. But with a twist: in this moment at Tony's favorite Chinese place, they can be Tony-and-Pepper. But it won't kill them to leave the restaurant without the hyphens. Without needing each other to be whole.

Later, as they step into the brisk night air, Pepper loops an arm through Tony’s and says, “You should go after him.”

“What?” Tony and stops in his tracks, despite the fact that out of the corner of his eye he sees a few paparazzi who’ve spotted his exit, heading their way.

“Tony, I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And it’s all over the news, how you two work together, how close you are. You said we’ve both changed, and we have. I’ve seen Steve and who _he_ is, change _you_. For the better---I’m not angry about it, Tony,” she adds at Tony’s beginning of a stammered (probably badly constructed) apology, “We’ve both known for a while now it’s time to move on. We can each start over. Right?”

He nods, resolutely, and replies, “Yeah.”

“Also, for the record, if you ever thought for a second I felt threatened by him--”

“--Pep, _when_ did I even--”

“--you thought wrong. Captain America may have the brawn, but I practically run an entire company and have also proven multiple times that I can blow stuff up. So there.” She crosses her arms, and Tony lets out the first genuine laugh he’s had in ages.

“You’re kind of awesome.”

“Yeah, I know. Oh--Paparazzi, your six o’clock. Ready to take them on?”

Tony grins, keeping hold of her arm. “As ever,” he says, because with Pepper he really always is, and as best friends and almost-but-no-go wives go, he’s gotta say he’s lucked out.

* * *

Steve Rogers is running.

The stars have become his companions, greeting him each night with their twinkling familiarity as he makes his way onto the city sidewalks when darkness falls. Running, exercising, helps him clear his head, and Steve finds he feels the need to do that a lot lately.

He jogs in place for a few seconds at a crosswalk, waiting for taxi after car after taxi to pass. His heart pumps loud in his ears, and this brief pause--the cease of movement--ignites the chugging of his thoughts. Thoughts he’s tried all night to push away . . . 

_Cap’s starting to get really annoyed with villains who tend to knock down buildings to prove a point._

_It’s not like the Hulk doesn’t destroy his fair share of public property (the whole team does, for that matter, though SHIELD always helps the patch-up process), but, to use playground logic--it’s always the bad guys who knock over stuff first. And frankly, it’s getting old. He leads some civilians out of a hotel lobby, all while barking communication to any Avenger who crosses his path over the noise of chaos. Cap darts a gaze to his right; Thor and the Hulk are working side by side (as they often do lately), and to Cap’s left Black Widow and Hawkeye are doing the same._

_He half-thinks,_ Where’s Tony? _before lifting his shield to a very large brick spiraling toward the side of his face. Structures are falling apart in the very center of the battle, and there’s not much time to lose. The Avengers need a plan of attack, but first, they need to get the hell out of the way before the crumbling architecture gets to them first._

_“Everyone spread ou--oh. Son of a gun.”_

_Yes, Cap is particularly irritated by villains who knock stuff over to make a point (gosh-darned Skrulls), especially now that an entire building is making its way toward Cap himself, which is just not fair, because he’s been too busy running around saving people to notice until just now._

_His shield is pretty strong, but it’s not gonna be able to tackle this, he thinks._

_“Move,” he commands, quietly at first, then as his mind catches up to the severity of the situation, louder: “Everyone move! Now!” He tries not to think (but very much does) that at least Tony’s in the air somewhere, probably getting himself into trouble, but at least not about to get crushed._

_His comrades are dispersed enough to get out of the way, but Cap knows he isn’t. He scrambles, stumbles backwards, hurling a Skrull off his back and there’s_ no time to move _and there’s a horrible feeling in the pit of Steve’s stomach because he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna--_

_\--not gonna--_

_Iron arms clamp around his middle, and there’s a loud crash and the roar of the Hulk and dust stains Cap’s eyesight as he tumbles sideways, and then he’s staring an obnoxious red mask in the face and breathing hard._

_Tony Stark lifts the face of his helmet and grins. “You’re welcome,” is all he says, and Cap’s thankful for it since there’s a lot the cheeky bastard_ could _say considering he’s peering down at Cap from a straddling position in the rubble._

_Cap thinks he should say something clever. So, naturally, all he can muster is: “You’re on top of me.”_

_“Admit it, I’m better than a twenty-story building.” For a few seconds, Tony doesn’t move, and Cap doesn’t ask him to, and oh, hell; they’d been doing so_ well _. . ._

_“Cap! Stark! You okay?” Barton shouts from somewhere nearby, “These bastards aren’t slowing down--could use the back-up! Thor’s on perimeter now.”_

_Tony stands up, extending his hand. Gingerly, Cap takes it and Tony yanks him to his feet with such force that Steve nearly collides into him. He feels suddenly all too warm now despite the crisp city air, and breaking Tony’s gaze seems impossible until the latter pipes up, “So. Ready to make some pea soup out of these Skrulls?”, and Cap chuckles a little, and if they bump shoulders and stay maybe a little too close on the trudge to battle, neither says anything._

Steve crosses the street, his break into a run jogging through his thoughts. Tony Stark had saved his life today. And he has no idea how to feel about it.

He senses a common theme, here: Tony Stark, and having no idea how to feel about him.

Making his way back toward the direction of Avengers HQ, Steve tries to think of something else. _Anything_ else. But his mind always wanders back to the arrogant billionaire who’s infiltrated Steve’s every move, every word, every passing bit flowing across his stream of consciousness.

His muscles burning with fatigue (the serum had given him stamina, but after fighting off Skrulls, almost getting killed, and then going for an hour-long run shortly after does weigh in after a while), Steve lets out a long sigh as JARVIS lets him into the building with a polite, “Good evening, Captain Rogers”, and makes his way to the kitchen for a bottled water or two. It’s near midnight, and all seems relatively quiet in comparison to the long battle that had taken place earlier that day. Steve figures everyone on his team is quite tuckered out, and as such he’s surprised to find Bruce Banner sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand. He looks up, nods, and smiles. “Rogers.”

“What’s up, Doc?” Steve retorts, because using the catchphrase to address Banner is _still_ funny, and Steve _gets_ that reference, so he’s going to damn well use it. “Quiet around here.”

Bruce shrugs. “Yeah. I’ve just been in the lab most of the night. Clint and Natasha went off to SHIELD earlier today, and I’m pretty sure Thor ransacked the fridge before crashing. Literally. There may have actually been a ‘boom.’” Cap smirks. “He’s heading back to Asgard for a little while tomorrow morning. You’re probably wondering where Tony is.”

Steve had been in mid-gulp of some water and nearly chokes it up as he sputters, “Huh?”

“Oh, well, I just figured. You two seem to be buddy-buddy lately, and, well, he was asking us where _you_ were earlier--Jesus, Steve, take a breather.” Bruce gestures to the seat next to him, and in between coughs, Steve sits down. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just, um. Frog in my throat.” He nods firmly as if this will help enforce the not-fact that it really had been a frog in his throat and to keep Bruce from looking at him so strangely. “What?”

Bruce leans back in his chair. “Nothing. Just that you seem on-edge lately. Speaking as someone who’s always on-edge, it might not be so great to bottle it up. What’s up?” He takes a sip of coffee, staring at Steve expectantly.

“It’s, uh. It’s nothing. I mean . . . it’s nothing that’ll affect you or the rest of the team--”

Bruce shrugs. “Not what I asked.”

Steve sighs, running a hand over his tired eyes. He guesses there’s no point in avoiding the inevitable. Bruce, in his quiet determination, is gonna make him talk.

Because the fact is, Dr. Banner is incredibly intimidating when he _isn’t_ a gigantic rage monster, just because he’s so unnervingly calm all the time.

Steve's words take hesitant steps from his mouth. “I, uh. I dunno. Just. Having a little difficulty sorting out my thoughts right now. About a lot of things." He stares down at his folded hands on the table. “Have you ever, um. Felt something for someone, that you know you shouldn't feel? Or that . . . you know it would be a bad idea if you did?"

“Oh, yeah." Bruce lets out a bitter chuckle. “I've been down that road so many times I could walk it with my eyes closed."

Bruce is looking at him with eyes not of a doctor, not of the Hulk, but of a friend. They are warm, full of textbook empathy that Steve finds he really could use right about now. Steve takes a deep breath, and before he knows it, he's letting the thoughts that have nudged at the edges of hsi consciousness for weeks on end float to the surface:

“It's just, this person made . . . an impression on me when we met, that I thought would stick with me. But as it turned out, this person is starting to make me believe that I was wrong before. Or that I will be wrong, eventually. I spent a hell of a lot of time in my day watching innocent people die because _other_ people didn't react well to differentness, or to change. I saw the same thing, over and over, until I got it in my head that people _can't_ change. Or at least that they won't." He pauses, searches Bruce's eyes for some kind of validity in his own words. Bruce nods a little, and Steve clears his throat and finishes: “But I've started to believe in a different kind of world these days, because of . . . this person. And that's probably not a good thing. It's . . . complicated, and I wish it didn't have to be."

Bruce nods again, slowly. An almost uncomfortably long string of quiet lifts between them, until he says, “You're right. It's probably not a good thing."

Steve sucks in a breath and shakes his head a little. “Exactly. I should just--"

“Which is why you should let it happen anyway. Look, I'm not good at this stuff. Listening, I could do that all day. But I'm not great in the advice-giving department. So I'm gonna cut to the chase, guy-to-guy, here. Um. Right, okay . . ." He leans forward, taking out his glasses from his shirt pocket and fiddling with them absently. “Sometimes, you can't help what you feel. And trying to mask it with something you _don't_ makes it worse. So maybe there's a lot at stake. Maybe a lot of things will be different now. But if you and this _person_ are willing to make a sacrifice here and there, it'll probably be worth it. And by the way, he's on the roof."

Steve's been listening intently, his gaze hardened to the edge of the table, up until this point. “I--who? What?"

“Tony. He's on the roof. I kinda wanted to get to the point for you, before this conversation started to resemble one between two teenage girls at a slumber party."

Steve knows full well that he's blushing red as a beet by this point, but Bruce's ever-stoic expression doesn't draw attention to it, which Steve appreciates quite a bit. “Look, Cap. I'm not exactly one to take many risks. Not much now, anyway. But f I hadn't taken a risk, I wouldn't be here with all of you. And let's just say it's hard to make friends when you've got . . . the Other Guy on your back. When it comes to stuff like this, you gotta get out of your element. You'll just regret it if you don't." There is something sadly nostalgic in Bruce's eyes, and Steve almost wants to ask how the typically reserved, quiet man has so much experience behind his eyes as he speaks of all this. But that's a conversation for another time, he figures. “So. It's now or never, bud."

It's strange, Steve thinks, how the one person you least expect can give you the best advice you never knew you needed. He squares his shoulders, realizing that once he makes the choice to do this, there's no going back. “The roof, you said?"

Bruce gives him one of his trademark, hesitant but genuine half-smiles, and Steve is running again.

* * *

This is how it is, now:

Steve Rogers, out of breath and wide-blue-eyed and at a loss of what to say.

Tony Stark stands at the very edge of the rooftop, drink in hand. Steve can see only his silhouette outlined in the moon’s glow, and even then, he is _mesmerizing_. Tony Stark doesn’t have to do anything but _be_ to captivate anyone in his path. Steve watches him for a moment, wondering what to do, how to begin. Beginnings are often the hardest--next to endings, of course.

He hasn’t much time to think before Tony turns to face him, eyes not their usual calculating dark brown but a soft chocolate. He’s smiling.

Steve straightens up, unable to help grinning back. This is different from all the other times they’ve had alone. This is not a warning or a threat or a promise to keep civil. This is an uncovering. A removal of the gleaming, ever-present armor that always stood between them.

“Mr. Stark,” Steve says, stepping forward. He’s still in his running clothes, face red with a combination of heat and nervousness, and he is open, like a wound, finally letting his emotions splay themselves on his face for Tony to see.

And Tony sees. He shuffles up to fill the space of concrete between them. Words dancing on his lips unsaid, but soon to be. “Captain.”

The moon and stars gaze quietly on, and it begins.


End file.
